On a Tuesday Morning
by LilyBartAndTheOthers
Summary: It's when the hero comes up and makes the girl shiver.WK fic, reviews please!


He came in on a Tuesday morning. He was wearing a raincoat to match with the weather. He rushed to Grace, she just passed unnoticed. It was like in these old movies she used to love watching, huddled up on the couch under a soft blanket, every evening. It's when the hero comes up and makes the girl shiver. It's when she realizes that it's just the beginning. But in the reality of her life it was more a kind of crash, she would never get him.

She had something about dark stories. The pain was a fascination that held her breath. She bit her lower lip and concentrated on those feelings. The immensity of their charms, the unbearable sensation that her heart was breaking apart. How she felt relieved when the tears started to run on her cheeks. And tired, it was a lot of energy.

Once she had left the razor blade pass through her skin and reach a vein. She had looked then how the blood was running down her leg. It hadn't hurt, slightly made her move. Why was she so different from the rest of the crowd?

She owned so many things that she couldn't help feeling empty. It was supposed to sound like a revenge, it only tasted of regrets. Behind her favorite lipstick and an expensive mascara she managed to face her life and give a bright fake smile. Until she met him and changed her perspectives, secretly. Even when she looked down her eyes remained on him. And when she went away to some exotic place, it was just about Will. Just him.

She didn't blush when she pictured him out while dealing with the intimate clauses that her husband had wanted her to sign a few years ago, before their wedding. Anyway, how could someone reach the pulsions of her soul? Karen Walker was a complete mystery for most of the people, even for her own family. And perhaps for herself too as a matter of fact.

She let her passion grow as we do raise a child. With a lot of protection, care, love and this dreadful feeling that leads to freedom. He would never come back as soon as her heart would have become independant. He was her nicotine contaminating her body, stealing her essence lovingly. Subconscious guides our steps towards unknown places. She just wondered if one day it would cease and leave her alone, like before this Tuesday morning. She hated so much Casablanca ending that she watched it over and over to let her tears fall down and run on her pale cheeks. She loved suffering.

She observed with envy all the men stopping by his arms. One after another. How could they do that? She would have never left him if only she had got him. She wasn't so bad, actually. Just misunderstood, apart. She looked at the world from outside, she didn't want to take part in its wars. Just brush its limits, she needed a frontier.

She found diversion in Jack's stories. He was funny, she wished he had been Will. Would she ever come to think about someone else? That was scaring but only her destiny. She loved thinking she was an actress and had the lead role in a Greek tragedy. Antigone, Andromaque, Berenice. Those souls had passed through the nets of time and found the secret of immortality, crying a love they would never reach. And when the young woman finally stopped breathing, we could see her soul going away peacefully. Then the curtain fell under moving applause.

She never said it to anyone. What happened that night is as confidential as her stifled cries. She kept for herself the sound of their breaths against each other. The soft noise of his lips kissing her shivering skin. The rustle of the sheets under their warm bodies. The way he looked at her and didn't say a word. A cloud hid the moon and erased his confuse gaze; she pushed him towards her and frowned under all these regrets. She didn't protest nor reject him. She let him make love to her and take possession of her heart. Then she just went away in the middle of the night.

That was her own movie but she didn't know her lines. The script was settled down, she couldn't come backwards. How many scenes were still left to live? She dreaded the « cut » that would come up one day and put an end to it.

She never drew a line under him. She still looks at him but from a different perspective. She knew something had changed when she had left him that night, as much as she had been smiling bitterly since this Tuesday morning when she had realized she would never get him.

She knows Casablanca by heart and can't help crying when the airport appears on her t.v. screen. It's when the heroine has to deal with her feelings. And make a choice, irreversible, fatal, unique. She feels her throat tighten and her eyes sore under her tears. Why do we have to choose, to make a decision? Why is it always so dark when she finds herself in love? Why is she fascinated by the pain of a heart? And can't help turning back when it comes to her life?

She takes a deep breath while the movie is ending, thinking about the day when she plays her own scene. The last one before closing the lights on the set of her life and whispering shyly that Will will remain in her heart. She will turn off the t.v. without looking backwards, without any regret, any fear. She will throw herself in his arms for a last embrace and murmur in his ears it has always been him. Since this Tuesday morning.

And then she will leave the stage, vaguely relieved.


End file.
